The Night of the Twisted World
by Saphura
Summary: Artemus Gordon finds himself in a familiar but very different place, where he no longer exists.
1. Chapter 1

So, let's try this once more from the top.

**A/N:** For those of you who are returning, I have added small changes. Most notably, the "comments" between Jim and the "villain" have been taken out. I know some of you liked those, and if I can figure out a way to work them back in, I will, but for now, no. a **HUGE** thank you to _challengerspet _for Beta Reading this thing halfway through. With out further ado, here we go.

* * *

Hello. So I came up with this idea a few days ago, and it wouldn't leave me alone. I don't own any of the characters, unless I come up with some that are my own.

Blackness rushed past him as he fell farther and farther. At least, he thought he was falling; until Artemus Gordon realized _he_ wasn't moving; the darkness was. He was lying flat on his back, staring up at a twilight sky. The rest of the world came into focus as he sat up. He found himself under some trees at the edge of a large meadow.

"Ugh, what happened?" he wondered aloud, rubbing his sore head. "How'd I get here? Jim? Jim, are you out there? Hello?"

There was no response. Artie scrambled up and leaned against a tree to prevent him from falling as the world and his head spun for a few seconds.

"Jim?" Artie called again; but James West was nowhere to be seen. With no Jim, Artie began to focus on the second most important thing: what was he doing here and how did he get here? Closing his eyes, Artie tried to remember what had happened to him. Everything was a blur, except for one very clear very surprised looking face, but Artie had no name to give it. There was also a bright flash of light, was that how he got here?

Other than the face, Artie could remember very little. He and Jim were investigating something, but what? Why couldn't he remember anything? All he could recall was someone's face, a bright flash of light…

And then he woke up here. Luckily, Artie knew where here was: the meadow wasn't far from the siding where the _Wanderer_ was; in fact Artie had eaten a picnic lunch on the other side of the meadow a day earlier. With any luck, Artie would be back on the train by time the sun went down.

"And then somebody, I don't care who, is going to have some explaining to do;" Artie mumbled. After straightening his shirt, he made his way purposely in the direction of the train.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, the sun had finally set and rain clouds began moving in as Artie gave a sigh of relief at a familiar sight. The _Wanderer_ sat on the rails, steam rising from her stack and light coming from the varnish car. Somebody was home; hopefully it was Jim

Artie strode up to the car, and jumped up onto the back platform. He peeked in through the window, in case it wasn't Jim who currently inhabited the car, but there was no one in the parlor. Deeming it safe, Artie opened the door and walked in. He immediately noticed there was something strangely different about the room, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

"Just your imagination, Artie boy;" Artie reassured himself quietly. He noticed a decanter on the desk, and, after making sure it was safe to drink, poured himself a glass before sitting down on the couch. Just as the glass reached his lips, a voice rang out.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

Artie froze in mid-sip. He knew the voice's owner, but was puzzled as to why he was here on the train.

"Put your hands where I can see them, and stand up slowly;" the voice ordered.

Artie put his hands up, and stood up before turning to face the speaker.

"Jeremy Pike?" Artie said. "What are you doing here?"

Agent Jeremy Pike suddenly turned as white as a sheet and dropped his gun in shock. "N-no… im-impossible… you're… you're… how?" he stammered. "Artemus Gordon?"

"Yes;" Artie said slowly. "Jeremy, are you all right? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"Because I have;" Jeremy replied. "Why me, Artemus? Why are you haunting me? I never did anything to you! Go haunt someone else, like whoever killed you!"

"K-killed me?" Artie cried. Jeremy, I'm not dead. What are you talking about?"

"You're not… I saw you killed, Artemus!" Jeremy replied. "I saw you murdered twelve years ago!"

Artie's mouth dropped open. "What?"


	2. Chapter 2

Again, thank you to _D'Angelo's Son _and _Spots on a Pony _for their input on Jeremy. Hopefully, I get his character right!

* * *

"What?" Artie's hand flew to his chest; he could feel his heart thumping wildly, the blood rushing through his body, the air in his lungs from panicked breathing. "Jeremy, that's not funny. I am very much alive right now."

"But, how?" Jeremy said. "It's not possible. I saw him… you die, I was there! You can't be Artemus Gordon!"

"I am Artemus Gordon!" Artie cried. "Jeremy, you have to believe me! I don't know how I got here, or what's going on, but I didn't die twelve years ago, and… Jeremy, what are you doing?"

Jeremy had walked over, and poked Artie on the arm. "You're solid!" he gasped. Jeremy looked at Artie, studying him hard before grabbing his arm and pulling up the sleeve to reveal an old scar.

"You were there when I got that;" Artie said quietly. "I pushed you out of the way of that Rebel's sword, and he gave that to me instead of you."

Jeremy traced the curved scar, lost in memory for a few moments before looking back at Artie. "Oh my God, it _is _you, Artemus."

"Umph!" Artie huffed as Jeremy threw his arms around him. "That's, oof, what I've been saying!"

"It is you, Artemus!" Jeremy repeated. "You're alive! I've missed you so much!" Jeremy pulled back; his eyes were wet from tears. "I don't know how or why you're here, but you have no idea how good it is to see you again."

"It's good to see you too;" Artie said. "Now Jeremy, where's Jim?"

"Jim who?" Jeremy asked.

"What do you mean 'Jim who?' Artie snapped. "Jim Weh…"

The parlor door burst open and a new man who was slightly familiar for some reason, strode in. "I'm ho-home!" the young man sang. He then noticed Artie, and turned a very light pink. "Oh, hello there. Jeremy, you didn't tell me we were having guests."

"I didn't know we were going to have guests, Henry;" Jeremy replied. "He just showed up."

Henry was in his late twenties with auburn hair and hazel eyes. He was long and lanky, and seemed more like a kid than a Secret Service agent.

Henry shrugged. "Oh, okay." He extended his hand and gave a short bow. "Henry M. Clarkin, at your service."

"Artemus Gordon;" Artie replied, taking Henry's hand. '_Henry Clarkin… I met him when I was last in Washington with Jim. But that was only a few months ago, and he was only a desk worker, not a field agent!_'

"Artemus Gordon;" Henry repeated. "I've heard the name before, but I'm not exactly sure where…"

"Henry, he is part of the reason we are investigating this area;" Jeremy said quietly.

"I'm what?" Artie asked.

Henry's mouth dropped open in shock. "He's _that _Artemus Gordon? The one Jim West is trying to avenge? But I thought he was dead!"

"He is, was;" Jeremy replied. "But this man is Artemus Gordon. We're just not sure how he got here."

"The one that Jim West is… Jeremy, what is he talking about?" Artie asked.

Jeremy ignored Artie. "Is he there, Henry?"

"Sure is;" Henry replied. "And none the wiser. We should be able to get a jump on him in the morning, the weather is already turning."

As if to add to his point, rain began to fall outside the train car.

"Good. Looks like you'll be staying here tonight, Artemus;" Jeremy said. "Henry, it's your turn…"

"What was he going to say about Jim?" Artie snapped.

"Not now, Artemus."

"_Now_, Jeremy."

Jeremy closed his eyes and sighed. No one said anything for a few moments. "Fine, Artemus, but this won't be easy. You best sit down. Henry, can you fix us a pot of something? I think we'll need it."

"Right." Henry nodded, and headed for the galley.

Artie sat down and crossed his legs. "Well?"

Jeremy sighed again. "You know, sometimes I wish I could just forget the entire episode; but I can't. Here it goes…"

"Twelve years ago, the War ended;" Jeremy began. "It was probably two or three weeks after Appomattox, but there were some Rebels who wouldn't give up, you know that. Anyway, one night, we were camped in North Carolina. We were headed back to Washington…"

"Jeremy, I remember that;" Artie interrupted. "All that happened where or when I came from. Get to the point."

"Fine. Anyway, this group of Rebels came charging into camp. There were about fifteen, twenty of them; came out of nowhere. They didn't mean to harm us much, or so it seemed. Only half of them were armed with guns, and even they didn't have much ammunition. The rest had sticks. They probably were trying to scare us off and take our stuff, but that didn't happen. It was chaos. I didn't see the shooting per say, but I heard James scream 'Artie', and I saw you fall."

Artie nodded. Part of him wanted to beg Jeremy to stop, but it was overruled by the other part.

"Two men shot you at point blank range. Some how, James got a good look at them, but he didn't chase them down because you were injured. The fight ended soon after. My, how the superiors were surprised when we arrived in town the next day with several Rebels in tow.

"And one body?"

Jeremy again sighed sadly. "And one body. You died from your wounds during the night. We actually had to put a guard on _James_ so he wouldn't run off after the rebels who had escaped, and the men who killed you. We stayed in town until the train to Washington came. Your funeral was the next week. And then this all started.

"James saw the killers at your funeral, towards the end thankfully. He ran after them, and lost them. James was ordered to stay in Washington while a search was sent out for the two. The search was diverted once Lincoln was assassinated, though.

"So James took up the search himself, against direct orders not to do so. Somehow, he tracked the men down. From what I heard, it was one hell of a fight. James killed one of them, and was pretty close to killing the other."

"When Jim puts his mind to something, he usually follows through;" Artie said. "So then…"

"Quit interrupting me and I'll get there!" Jeremy snapped. Henry returned with three cups of steaming tea. He quietly passed them out, and then took a seat off to the side.

"Don't mind me;" he added.

"Where was I?" Jeremy continued. "Oh, right. The man survived because a search party looking for John Wilkes Booth came across the scene and broke the fight up, sort of. James got so mad at them he began shooting at the party. He injured several, including the Command and Second in Command. The Second in Command later died from his wounds, as did a private. James West got away, but they caught the man who was still alive. From what I heard, they arrested him to protect him from James, but he apparently escaped about two years ago."

"My God;" Artie gasped.

"Now James West is wanted for murder, desertion, insubordination, robbery, and probably a few other things too. That's why Henry and I are here, to bring in James T. West."

"He's been sighted in this area the last few weeks;" Henry added. "So Jer and I have been sent in to investigate. He doesn't have many options left; he's been running for twelve years."

"I'm sorry, Artemus;" Jeremy said softly. "I know you and James were close friends, but not that close. He was so upset; it was like he was someone else. You would have thought you had been friends for more than three years."

"James West a wanted man;" Artie muttered. He stared into his drink, and finally took a sip. "And all because of me…"

"Artemus…"

"I remember that raid, Jeremy;" Artie continued. "But I wasn't the one who was shot, it was Jim, and he didn't die. Nearly did, but he didn't die. It's like I'm in another reality… where I don't exist… And I can't remember how I got here! I can't remember anything!"

"Another reality?" Henry said. "Not possible."

"Actually, it is;" Artie said. "I've been in another reality before; I think. Jeeze, how many times must I get killed and live to tell the tale?"

"What?" Jeremy and Henry asked, but Artie just waved them off.

"Never mind, you wouldn't understand;" he said. "Look, would you mind giving me a minute…?" Artie suddenly felt tired; tired, confused, hurt, scared, and lost.

"Sure Artemus;" Jeremy said. "You can go in my room down the hall if you want."

Artie stood up. "Thanks;" he said quickly, and left.

"Hey, that's my—" Henry began to say, but Jeremy shot him a look. "Room;" Henry finished quietly as the door closed.

Artie fell onto his bed that wasn't really his bed. "Oh Jim;" he said. "What the hell is going on?"

Tears started to streak down his cheeks. Now he knew why the parlor had seemed different: it wasn't his and Jim's parlor, it was Jeremy's and Henry's. Everything was so similar, but so different. He felt at home, but it wasn't home.

He was "dead"; and Jim was a wanted man.

"What happened to me?" Artie whispered. "Why can't I remember?"

* * *

Artie awoke to the sound of the _Wanderer_'s whistle, and the lingering smell of the dinner he slept through. '_Jim can't cook… oh;_' he thought as he sat up and reality came crashing back. Reality… what was reality at this point? Artie wasn't sure.

The night was turning grey with the approaching dawn; the rain from the night before had moved on. Artie climbed out of the bed, and looked out into the hall. He crept to the door to the parlor, and peered in. Henry was sprawled out across a couch, and Jeremy was no where to be seen; though his location was given away by the snore that came from Jim's room.

'_No, Jeremy's room now;_' Artie corrected. He quietly opened the door the rest of the way, and made his way over to a table where a map of the area was spread out. A green dot showed the _Wanderer_'s current location, and a town about ten miles from the train was circled in red, with a telegraph message tacked to the map below the town.

"_West sighted, investigate claim, and search area._"

Artie gave a quiet sigh. He needed answers, ones that only Jim could give him. With his mind made up, he quickly sketched out the map, and exited the parlor. He then reentered, and darted into the galley.

'_Riding on an empty stomach is never a good idea;_' Artie told himself. He opened a cupboard, and found a loaf of bread. He then took two apples from the bowl, and a canteen. He would find water later.

'_If this Jeremy is anything like the other Jeremy_;' Artie thought. '_Then he should have… Ah!_'

Sure enough, the third bedroom Artie used as a closet for all his disguises was used for the same purpose as Jeremy. Artie quietly began shifting through the clothes, picking out a few for himself, and for Jim. He searched the rest for loose change in the pockets, and came away with about $35.

He then turned to the shelves with various fake beards, mustaches, wigs, and makeup. He quickly grabbed some makeup, two wigs, a beard, and a mustache, and stuffed them into his bag.

With the costumes and makeup selected, Artie darted into the small room he used as a lab; which Jeremy used for the same purpose as well. Artie selected several chemical concoctions and gadgets, adding them (carefully) to his bag before leaving.

He activated two gas pellets, and tossed one in the parlor near Henry, and the other into Jeremy's room. '_That should buy me a few extra hours;_' Artie though.

With his supplies ready, Artie crept down the hall and out the door. He jumped over the gap between the two cars, and entered the stable car. The two horses looked up, puzzled and sleepy. Artie half expected to see Blackjack and Mesa, but instead the horses were a young gray mare and a brown male.

"Morning boys and girls;" Artie whispered. He walked over to the gray mare, who looked back with a questioning eye.

"Hey, sweetie;" Artie said, putting her bridle on. "Mind giving me a lift… Luna?" Her name was inscribed on the bridle.

Luna snorted, but obliged as Artie led her out and saddled her. Once he was done and had his bags ready to go, he opened the door, and led her down the ramp.

"C'mon, Luna girl;" he said, nudging her into a fast paced walk. "Let's go find Jim."

He had to find Jim. As much as he was thankful to Jeremy and Henry for helping him; something told Artie they couldn't do much else. The answers to his questions were with Jim, but he had to find him first.


	3. Chapter 3

Jeremy was the first to wake up as the sun came through the crack in his blinds. '_My I slept late! I hope Artemus is feeling better;_' he though as he stretched. '_He never came in for dinner last night. Poor guy; he comes back from the dead to find his best friend is a murderer. No, not from the dead… another reality._'

"Oh brother;" he muttered. Jeremy swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He exited his room, and walked over to Henry's room where Artie was staying. Quietly pushing the door open, Jeremy found the bed unoccupied.

"I guess he woke up;" Jeremy mumbled, and headed for the parlor. Henry was still sprawled across the couch (drooling), but Artie was no where to be seen. Nor was he in the galley.

Acting on a hunch, Jeremy left the parlor car, and entered the stable car.

"WHAT THE HELL?"

Henry flew off the couch and onto the floor. "Suh-what? I awake! Jer?"

Jeremy came running back into the parlor. His face was red, and he was clearly very angry.

"Henry, where is Luna?" he asked.

"Luna? She's in her stall;" Henry replied.

"No she's not; and Artemus is missing."

"Oh shit;" Henry said, and scrambled up. "Gordon took her? Where? Why?"

"To find James West;" Jeremy growled. "Get up and get dressed. We're going after him."

Jeremy rushed out, leaving the half dressed Henry. "I knew it;" Henry muttered before heading into his room to change. "I knew that guy was crazy!"

* * *

As Artie rode into the little town of Copper Junction, he could only hope that he had at least a few hours head start on Jeremy and Henry which he could use to find Jim.

Though the sun had just risen, the little town was already awake and moving. Artie tied Luna to a post, and began asking around if anyone had seen a young man matching Jim's description around. A few people had, and sent him to the stable where the young man in question apparently had found a job.

"You know, there was another man here yesterday lookin' for your friend;" one person told him. "Seems he's a popular guy."

"Yeah;" Artie said, and headed for the stable.

'_Why did you get a job, Jim?_' Artie wondered as he walked in.

The manager of the stable sat at his desk, widdling a small pipe. "Cin I 'elp you?" he asked.

"Perhaps;" Artie replied. "I'm looking for a friend of mine. Seems he was working here."

"Maybe, maybe not;" the manager replied. "What yer friend look like?"

"Young man, mid-thirties, about this height;" Artie said. "Green eyes, brown hair."

Seeing that he was getting nowhere with this guy, Artie added; "He rides a black stallion."

"I seen yer friend, had him in my employ for a little while. Fine horse he had; but a handful. It almost took my head off when I tried to fix its shoe!" the manager said.

Artie smiled. "That's him all right. Where is he?"

"Not here;" the manager replied. "You know, you're the second person to be…"

"Where can I find him?"

"Heck if I know; he left yesterday afternoon;" the manager looked his pipe over. "Headed west, I think. Hope he got over them all right, it rained heavy last night."

Artie handed the manager a $10 bill. "Thanks. And if you see two men ride in on one horse, give them this." He handed the manager a letter.

"O-kay;" the manager said. Artie tipped his hat, and left.

"Well, Luna, now I know where to find Jim;" he told the gray horse.

Luna blinked in response.

* * *

James West was glad to be on the move again. His horse Blackjack had been injured, forcing him to stay in town for a week. The manager of the livery stable had offered Jim a job and a place to stay while Blackjack recovered, which Jim gratefully accepted, but had been time to leave. Especially since yesterday a federal agent had shown up.

Jim hadn't recognized him at first, but soon noticed how the new comer went around asking questions. Jim had managed to avoid him, but he knew that it would only be a matter of time before more showed up. So Jim packed up and left. He had gotten a third of the way through the hills when it began to pour. Cold and wet, Jim had found a small cave and stopped for the night.

Now, Jim had made himself a small fire for some coffee before setting out again.

"We're close, Blackjack;" Jim told his horse. "But so are they. Once I track this man down, it will be over."

Blackjack shook his head, causing Jim to smile. He and the horse were inseparable partners, loyal only to each other.

"Who needs friends?" Jim said, rubbing the horse's nose. "I got you."

Blackjack snorted.

Jim laughed, and then froze. Not far away, he heard someone singing.

"_Oh she'll be'a comin' round the mountain when she comes!_"

Jim swore quietly and pulled out his gun. So far, who ever it was hadn't noticed him; but Jim could see the horse and rider through the trees. If he noticed Jim…

"_She'll be'a comin' round the mountain when she comes!_"

'_Keep going, keep going;_' Jim silently willed the rider on. '_That's it, don't mind us. Keep…_'

SNAP!

"Shit!" Jim hissed. He had forgotten about his little fire, which had let off a loud snap at just the wrong moment.

"Hello up there!"

Jim looked back at the rider, who was now waving at him, and walking his horse towards Jim.

"Shit;" Jim repeated. He waited until the rider got close enough before he aimed the gun at the rider's head.

"Oh, wait! Wait! Don't shoot!" the rider cried, throwing his hands up. "I ain't goin'a hurt you!"

The rider had bushy blond hair and a beard. Jim couldn't place the accent… most likely from the Northeast.

"What you want?" Jim growled.

"Nothin', nothin' just passin' through;" the rider said. "Wheh yah headed?"

"That way;" Jim said, nodding his head in the direction away from town, and towards the next one.

"Well what yah know, me too!" the rider cried happily. "How's about we go togethah? It'll be fun."

'_Right._' "I'll pass;" Jim said. "But if I let you go, you can't tell anyone you saw me."

"Well then why don't yah come with me and make suah';" the rider said. "C'mon, I need someone to ride with. What do you say?"

Jim sighed. "Fine." '_Might play out in my favor. The authorities are looking for one man, not two._'

"H'all right!" the rider said. "By th' way, the name's George Arthur Maude. What's yours?"

"Jack;" Jim said.

'_Like hell it is Jim!_' Artie thought, but instead smiled and said; "Jack, I like that name. Ready to go, Jack?"

Jim finished putting his breakfast away, and swung up onto Blackjack. "Let's go. Keep up, I ride fast."

"Okay!" Artie said happily.

Jim just rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long ride.

* * *

As I said before, I apologize if I make Artie butcher the Boston accent.


	4. Chapter 4

"Jeremy, maybe I should…"

"No."

"But you…"

"No."

"But he's…"

"NO!"

Jeremy and Henry were both riding Henry's horse, Sparks. Jeremy was in a very bad mood. First, Artemus Gordon appears from seemingly beyond the grave, but is actually from another reality. Then he wakes up to find Artemus Gordon has run off and stolen his horse to go and find James West. Yep, today was off to a great start.

Finally, they arrived in Copper Junction. Henry slid off his horse as Jeremy jumped off and stormed into the sheriff's office.

"He's not happy, Sparks;" Henry whispered to his horse. "I've never seen him act this way. Then again, I've never heard of people comin' back from the dead, except Jesus Christ and Lazarus; or of people coming from different realities."

Sparks blinked.

"Exactly;" Henry said.

"Oi! You with the horse!"

Henry looked up to find a middle aged man he recognized as the stable manager walk towards him, waving an envelope in one hand and his pipe in the other.

"Can I help you, sir?" Henry asked. "I'm afraid I can't deliver that though…" He pointed at the envelope.

"I don't need _you_ to deliver it, I'm delivering it to you!" the man said, and handed the envelope over. "A man came by earlier asking about my stable hand like you were yesterday. The man told me that if I saw two men ride into town on one horse, that I was to give this to them, so I am."

"Um, thanks;" Henry said. "Where is the man now?"

"Heck if I know." The manager shrugged. "He took off after his friend. They were headed west."

"Oh man, thank you!" Henry cried, and raced into the sheriff's office. "Jeremy!"

"Yer welcome!" the manager replied.

"Jeremy!" Henry yelled again.

"What?" Jeremy cried, and spun around to face his partner.

"The stable manager gave me this." Henry handed over the envelope. "It's from Gordon."

Jeremy snatched the letter away, ripped it open, and read it:

_Jeremy and Henry:_

_I'm sorry about borrowing your horse without asking first, and borrowing some other stuff, but I have to find Jim. I don't know what is going on here, but something tells me that part of the answer is with Jim. I have to find the truth, even if it means assisting him escape you two. I apologize in advance, sort of. I will be gone by time you read this._

_Again, I am sorry,_

_ -Artemus Gordon_

"Henry, who gave you this?" Jeremy asked.

"The stable manager;" Henry replied. "He's the one who had Jim West working for him for the last week or so."

"I am sorry, Mr. Pike;" the sheriff said. "If I had known that man was Jim West, I would have locked him up the first day. Why didn't your partner here tell me yesterday?"

"It was hard enough going around asking questions without arousing his suspicion;" Henry answered. "Coming to you probably would have ended up with someone getting shot, and I try to avoid that if at all possible."

"So they're both gone?" Jeremy asked.

Henry flinched. "West apparently left last night. Seems I wasn't as subtle as I thought. Gordon came in this morning."

"Damn it Henry;" Jeremy muttered. He grabbed his partner's arm and dragged him out the door. "They have a few hours head start on us, and I don't even have a horse!"

Yep, today was going great so far.

* * *

Artie and Luna had a slightly hard time keeping up with Jim and Blackjack. Jim slowed down for no one, especially an unwanted travel companion. Artie tried several times at starting a conversation, but he found Jim cold and unresponsive, and what responses he did get were no more than four words, which were normally "yes, now shut up" or "no, now shut up". Jim actually drew his gun on Artie at one point when Artie started singing quietly. From that point on, Artie was silent.

'_It's nice to see Jim again;_' Artie though as he watched his friend. '_But he's not my Jim; he's different. All because…_' "I'm dead."

"You say something, George?" Jim asked.

Artie realized he said the last part out loud. "Uh, no. Just thinking out loud. Sorry, Jack."

Jim grunted, and turned forward.

The two were on a first name basis, mainly because "Jack" never gave a last name, and "George" had a name that was a female name. Artie was slightly surprised that Jim hadn't seen through his disguise yet; he had fooled Jim before, but never this long. Then again, it had been twelve years since this Jim had last seen Artie.

"_I'm going to have to tell him, sooner or later;_' Artie thought. '_Or he'll find out on his own. I just can't tell him now, not until we're safe._'

Jim was a wanted man; and now Artie was too: wanted for assault on federal officers (the gas pellets), stealing (Jeremy's horse), assisting a wanted criminal escape from custody (traveling with Jim); though he wasn't sure about the last one.

The silence continued for another hour, until Artie couldn't take it anymore.

"Jack, wheah ah you from?"

Jim twisted around in his saddle to face Artie. "Excuse me?"

"Wheah ah you from?" Artie asked again.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Jist wonderin';" Artie shrugged. "I'm from Boston. You?"

"Everywhere and nowhere;" Jim replied.

"You don't say. I have a friend back home like you. Least, I think he's back home, haven't seen him in yeahs." '_Actually, he right in front of me! But at the same time, he's not._'

"Uh-huh;" Jim said. "George, why are you traveling with me?"

"'Cause two ah bettah than one."

"No, really, why are you traveling with me?"

Artie sighed. '_Because you're my brother, Jim;_' he wanted to say. '_Because I want to help you, and you're the only one who can help me here. Because I'm lost! Because I'm dead but I'm not! Because… because…_'

"'Cause I could tell you ah in trouble."

"What makes you say that?" Jim asked uncomfortably.

Artie shrugged. "Not shu'ah, realeh. You just seemed like the kind o' guy who needed help. Not shu'ah what that help is, but I'm willin' to give it to you."

"Trust me, George, you don't want to help me;" Jim said almost sadly.

"Shu'ah I do!" Artie cried. "Why wouldn't I?"

The both thought at the same time: '_Because that help will be against the law._'

"You just don't;" Jim said quietly, and turned back around. That was the end of that conversation.

They continued riding in silence (Artie knew he had struck a nerve, and didn't want to push Jim much more) for another few hours, until the sun began to set, and they found a spot at the base of a large tree to set up camp for the night. Though Jim didn't approve of it much (for reasons he never told "George", but Artie knew anyways), Artie started a small fire, and cooked them supper ('_Jim could never cook, even back home_.'). As the evening continued, he noticed that Jim never really relaxed, and his hand was never far from his hip.

"C'mon, Jack my boy, relax a bit!" Artie said. "Theah's nothing out theah. Like my Great-Aunt Maude used to say, what you can't see can't hurt you."

Jim smiled. "Great-Aunt Maude? Isn't your last name Maude, George?"

"Yeah, my Grampa Andrew had a bad sense o' humoah. Unfortunately, he took it out on his kids. Luck my dad nevah had such humoah."

Jim chuckled. "Some sense of humor… Strange…"

"I know. Grampa was a strange one."

Jim shook his head. "No, not your Grandfather;" he said. "It's you. It's strange, but you almost remind me of an old friend of mine."

'_Uh-oh, cover blown!_' Artie thought. "Realeh, what's he like?"

Jim stopped laughing, and looked down. "Dead. He was killed twelve years ago."

"Oh;" Artie said. '_Maybe not._' "I'm sorry."

"Artie was a good friend;" Jim said. "He was almost like a brother to me. Even though I only knew him for a few years, it was as if I had known him forever… but that's all ancient history." He suddenly stood up, and walked over to the horses.

Artie sighed. Jim was hurting right now. He didn't know that the "old friend" who "died" twelve years ago was actually alive and well and sitting next to the fire. He wanted to tell Jim the truth, but Artie knew he couldn't do that, not yet.

"I'll take first watch, George;" Jim called. "You get some rest."

"Why do we need…? You shu'ah?"

"I'll be up for a while anyway."

Artie shrugged. He wasn't going to complain, he was tired anyways. Plus, he agreed with Jim in that they needed to set up a watch; after all, they were wanted men, or at least, Jim was.

"Okay, wake me up when it's my turn;" Artie said. He pulled out his bed roll, and climbed in under the blanket. "Good night Ji-ack." He flinched as he realized he had nearly said 'Jim'.

"Good nigh… what'd you call me?" Jim asked.

Artie sat up. That was the second screw-up of the night; he was more tired than he thought. "Ji-ack;" he said. "Sorry, old habit. I have a friend back home named Jack, and foah some reason, always call him 'Ji-ack'. Nut shu'ah why, realeh."

"Uh-huh. Don't do it again;" Jim said.

"Okay." Artie pulled his blanket back up and sighed. Jim hadn't fully bought the story, and he was already suspicious of his travel companion. Artie turned over, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

* * *

Jim watched as his strange travel companion George Arthur Maude fell asleep. Part of him wanted to leave the man here, and continue moving on his own; but another part told him to stay with George. Jim listened to the second part.

'_How is it this man reminds me so much of Artie?_' Jim wondered, watching George's blanket rise and fall as he breathed.

Jim hadn't thought about that night twelve years ago for a long time. It had been soon after the War ended, but a few weeks before Lincoln's assassination. Jim and Artie and a group of soldiers were headed to Washington, and had stopped for the night. Jim hadn't been able to sleep that night, and was sitting with the two men on watch by the campfire instead.

That's when it happened. Jim jumped two feet into the air as several yells filled the air, and the ex-Rebels attacked. He rolled out of the way of one of them who was riding a horse, pulled his gun out and fired. The man fell from his horse, and lay moaning on the ground. The rest of the camp was awake at this point and fighting back (though only a few men were dressed in more than their underwear). Jim easily took down three attackers, when he heard four gun shots followed by a familiar scream

Jim spun around. Two men each held a smoking gun level at Artie's chest. Artie fell to his knees.

"Artie!" Jim screamed. He sprinted over and caught his friend before he could hit the ground. One of the men laughed as they ran off into the woods. Jim nearly followed them when Artie cried out.

"C'mon, Artie!" Jim cried. Artie's nightshirt was covered in blood from four bullet wounds.

Artie coughed, and moaned in pain. "Jim…?"

"Don't speak, Artie, just hold on;" Jim said. He pressed down on the wounds. "Help! Someone, help! Help!"

The fighting around him died down as the final few attackers either surrendered or ran off into the woods. Jim continued yelling until someone finally came over. He was pulled away from Artie, and a soldier with medical training took over. Artie was carried to another tent, and Jim refused to leave his side, even after the doctor from a nearby town came.

Artie regained consciousness only once after being shot. His eyes were glazed over in pain and confusion.

"Jim…?"

Jim took Artie's hand. "I'm here, Artie."

"Jim, I…" Artie smiled slightly. "I thought it was… over."

"What was over?" Jim asked.

"The War;" Artie replied. "I thought… it ended."

"It did;" Jim said. "But some won't accept it."

"Ah, yes;" Artie began to cough, and gasped for breath. Jim tried to help his friend, but there was nothing he could really do.

"Jim… I… I have something… for… you;" Artie whispered. "A… a going home… present."

"Artie, you can give it to me when we're in Washington and I actually go home;" Jim said.

"The box… over there… Jim, open it;" Artie pointed at a box that had been salvaged from the burnt remains of the tent. Jim reached over, and opened it as Artie nodded.

"Welcome… home… Jim;" Artie said with a smile.

Jim pulled out the thick book: it was a book of Shakespeare's plays, an abridged version. Where Artie had found the book, Jim had no idea. "Artie… I, I don't know what to say;" Jim stammered.

"So you… will know… what I'm always… quoting…" Artie said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Life's but a… walking sh-shadow… a poor player… th' struts… frets his hour… 'pon th' stage… Then heard no… more… 'Tis a tale… tale told by… an idiot… full of… sound and, and fury… Sig… Signifying… nothing…" As his voice died away, Artemus Gordon took his last breath.

"Artie? Artie! Artie no!" Jim screamed, shaking his friend; but Artie was gone. Tears fell as Jim was pulled away from the body, and Artemus Gordon was pronounced dead.

Three weeks later, James West was running for his life after killing one of Artie's assassins, and accidentally killing an army officer and a private and wounding several others. He was alone; and the only thing he had left was himself, the clothes on his back, and a book of Shakespeare's plays.

Pulling himself back into the present, Jim reached over into his saddle bag. He pulled out a large, worn book of the Bard's plays from its protective cloth. Artie's final gift. Jim ran his hand over the cover as he sat back down next to the fire. He opened to a familiar and marked page.

"Signifying nothing;" Jim quoted. "MacBeth, Act V, Scene v. You didn't signify nothing, Artie." He put the book back in its cover and into his saddle bag. "You signified everything. You still do."

A few hours and haunting memories later, Jim woke "George" up for his shift. As Artie took his place by the fire, Jim lay down and fell into a well deserved sleep. Somehow, he slept through the rest of the night; even with the strange dream of a train, and Artie. He was woken up by the smell of "George" cooking breakfast.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **For those of you who are two lazy to read my note at the beginning, there have been changes to this story (the comments between Jim and "villain" are gone).

* * *

The next morning, Jim and Artie packed up their campsite (Jim was careful to destroy most evidence that they had been there), and the two set off once more. Several hours later, Jim was still tight lipped about most things, but that didn't stop Artie from trying at conversation. After a while, Jim just settled on responding when necessary.

"…So then they'rah all like 'hey, just kidding! We ain't goin'a kill you!' I tell you, Jack, it was the weirdest thing that's evah happened to me!" Artie laughed. He had fallen back on telling stories of past adventures with Jim, with names and places changed of course. "One second they wah going to hang us; the next, I got the key to the town in my hand!"

Jim smiled and shook his head. "That is something, George. That is something."

Artie grinned; glad to see his friend smile. "I know, right? And then…"

"Hold up, George."

Jim pointed at a structure that was just visible through the trees. It was a barn.

"Well what'cha know, we'ah almost to town! Cooked food and nice bed heah I come!" Artie said.

Jim nodded, and looked at Artie. "Then this is where we part, George."

"What?" Artie gasped. "You ain't comin'?"

Jim shook his head. "No, I have to keep moving. I need to find… It's been nice traveling with you…"

"I'm comin' too."

"What? Why?"

'_Because I'm not leaving you, Jim;_' Artie thought. "'Cause I said I would help you, an' I haven't helped you yet."

"Honestly George, you have helped…"

"Hello there!"

The two looked to their left as a large group of riders came into view. Jim cursed quietly, and tensed up, ready to run. Artie reached into his pocket, and pulled out a handful of smoke/gas bombs.

"Jack, here; take a few;" Artie hissed, holding his hand out so the approaching men couldn't see the spheres. "When I say, throw them down, and run. Make sure not to breathe in any of the stuff."

"What?" Jim asked.

"Just do it!" Artie snapped. Jim grabbed a few of the bombs, and hid them as the riders approached.

"Where you two comin' from?" the lead rider asked. Jim and Artie noticed the shining sheriff's badge on his vest. '_Easy Jim;_' Artie silently told his partner. '_Don't do anything quite yet._'

"What evah little town is back that-a-way;" Artie said, pointing behind him.

"That would be Copper Junction;" the sheriff replied. "Say, you two boys haven't happened to see another two riders comin' from that direction, have you?"

"No sah, why?" Artie asked. Jim was about ready to bolt and Artie continued to silently will his partner to calm down until the right moment. If the moment came, that is.

"Well, we got word that two men left Copper Junction yesterday;" the sheriff continued. "One of them's a wanted man. The other, well, not sure how he fits in, but they want him too."

"George, I forgot to mention this, but I heard a couple of riders go past us last night;" Jim said. His voice was surprisingly steady. "That might have been the men you're looking for, sheriff."

"I would tend to believe you, son;" the sheriff said. "Except for the fact that you look just like the picture of the wanted man, and your friend here is riding a stolen horse!"

"Now Jim!" Artie yelled as the men closed in on them. He and Jim threw down the smoke bombs, and raced off as a cloud of smoke engulfed the sheriff and his men.

"Get dem! Get dem!" the sheriff cried, but the special gas that Jeremy had mixed into the smoke quickly took him and several other men out. The few remaining who hadn't caught a whiff of the stuff stayed, and let their quarry run. They wouldn't get far; the entire area was crawling with law men and volunteers.

* * *

By time Jim and Artie slowed their horses, they were out of breath themselves. Jim pointed out an overhang formed by a large bolder and a fallen tree. The two headed for their new hiding spot to regroup.

"Did we lose them?" Jim asked.

"I think so, Jim;" Artie replied. "I didn't see anyone follow…" He paused as he heard Jim pull the hammer back on his gun.

"How do you know who I am?" he growled. "How do you know my name?"

"They said your name back theah;" Artie replied.

Jim shook his head. "No they didn't. All they said was that I resembled a picture of a wanted man. They never said my name. I told you my name was Jack, yet you've called me Jim twice in the last ten minutes. So answer me, how do you know my real name?"

Artie sighed. "Because I was looking for you, James West."

"Why were you looking for me?" Jim said. He was so upset, that he had pretty much forgotten that they were hiding at this point and began yelling, causing Artie to cringe slightly. "What are you, a cop? A detective? Bounty hunter? What? I should have shot you yesterday when you showed up!"

"No, Jim, because I'm a friend;" Artie said. Jim opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by another voice.

"Drop the gun, James West, we have you surrounded!"

The two looked around, and sure enough, they were surrounded by twenty armed men; with Jeremy Pike and Henry Clarkin blocking their escape route.

Jim swore loudly, and dropped his gun. He glared at Artie, about ready to take the man's head off, but didn't move. Artie flinched away from Jim's stare. He had never seen him so angry like that before; it scared him a little.

"Off the horses, gentlemen;" Jeremy said. Jim and Artie dismounted, and Jeremy walked over to Artie. "Thanks for taking care of Luna;" he said

Artie shrugged. "No problem, any time. Sorry I didn't ask first."

"But I would like her back now;" Jeremy said. "And my stuff." He reached up and pulled the wig off of Artie's head. Jim's eyes went wide.

"Let me get the beard;" Artie said. Slowly, he pulled the beard off, and handed it to Jeremy.

"What the hell?" Jim cried. "Who are you?"

"The guy who stole his horse and makeup;" Artie mumbled.

Jim stumbled back as he got a good look at "George". "No… how… who are you? You can't be him! He's dead!"

"Don't you recognize your old friend, West?" Henry said. "No? James West, meet Artemus Gordon. Alive and well, I might add."

"I told you I was a friend, Jim;" Artie said quietly. "I wanted to tell you before but…"

Suddenly, Jim West did something that Artie had never seen him do without the assistance of a drug or gas of some kind. Jim West fainted.

"Holy—" Henry stepped forward, and caught Jim before he hit the ground.

"Let's go;" Jeremy said. "You can borrow Luna until we get into town, Artie. You two, get West on his horse."

Artie climbed back up on Luna, and allowed Henry to tie his hands. Jim was also tied up and draped across Blackjack.

The ride back was uneventful for the first ten minutes. When Jim woke up, he stayed limp as the spots cleared from his vision and his memory came back. Suddenly, it all came back, and one part in particular.

"Artie!" Jim shouted. He had woken up, and caused a few men to jump at the sudden shout.

"Ah, Mr. West, you're awake!" the sheriff they had knocked out earlier said. "Boy's help him into a more comfortable position."

Three men came over and helped Jim get into a sitting position. Once he was up, he saw "George". Only "George" no longer had blond hair and a beard; he had dark brown hair and was cleanly shaven.

"Hi Jim;" the man he had known as "George Arthur Maude" said, and gave a weak smile.

"Artie?" Jim gasped. "But… how? You… you're… I…"

"I'm supposed to be dead, I know;" Artie said. "It's a long story."

Artie could clearly read the confusion on his friend's face. Suddenly, it changed. Jim's expression darkened, and he looked away. Artie could tell his friend was hurting.

He was too.

* * *

No one spoke a word as the rode into the town an hour later. The residents paused in whatever activity they happened to be doing, and watched as the group of riders made their way to the sheriff's office and jail.

"They got him!" people whispered to each other. "They caught Jim West!"

"But who's the other fellow?" others wondered.

Jim was still tense, and ready to bolt at the first sign of an opening. Unfortunately, that opening never came.

Artie looked around uncomfortably. Normally, he loved attention; any man of the Stage loved attention. He didn't like the attention he was getting now, however. People would point at him and Jim, and then look away quickly to whisper with whoever was standing with them.

Suddenly, something caught his eye, and caused him to do a double take. A young woman stood by the corner of a building, watching the "procession" go by just like everyone else. She had short dark chocolate hair, with brown eyes. Artie knew the woman, he had seen her before.

She was the last thing he could remember before waking up in this twisted nightmare of a world. Her surprised face was the last thing he could remember clearly before the flash of light. But there was something else. He knew her from somewhere else, before all of this; but nothing came to mind.

The woman's eyes went wide, and her hand flew to her mouth. A frightened yet understanding look came across her face as she shook her head worriedly; before she turned and ran behind the building.

Artie turned his horse to go after her, and was quickly cut off by several men.

"Where do you think you're going?" one of them snapped.

Artie swallowed, realizing he would never have gotten very far had he gone after the young woman. "Erm, sorry… thought I saw someone I knew;" he replied.

"Well maybe they'll come and visit you;" the man said. "C'mon, your new home is at the end of the street."

"Oh goody;" Artie mumbled.


	6. Chapter 6

Since this is the first new chapter in a few weeks, I made it longer than I normally would. I'll update this over the next few days, stay tuned!

* * *

Jim West did not like small spaces, and jail cells were his least favorite kind of small space. He had only been thrown in jail twice in twelve years (the three or four overnights due to too much alcohol didn't count); and had escaped within two months both times. So now, pissed off, confused, hurt, and sore, James West was shoved into another jail cell, with the man claiming to be Artemus Gordon in the cell next to him.

"Artemus" wasn't happy either. He looked over at Jim sadly. '_My fault this time, partner;_' he thought. '_I'm sorry._' Sighing, he made his way over to the bench, and sat down.

"We'll be back later to check on you;" Jeremy Pike said. "Once we decide what we'll do with you."

Jim waited until Jeremy and the other men had left the room before spinning around to face "Artemus".

"Who the hell are you?" he shouted. "What do you think you are? Is this some kind of joke? Who are you really?"

The man sighed. "I am Artemus Gordon."

"Bullshit;" Jim spat. "Artemus has been dead twelve years. I saw him die; I was at his funeral when they buried him. Artie is back on the East Coast, six feet under."

"The Artemus you knew is dead, Jim;" the man said. "I'm a different Artemus. I know it sounds… insane, but I'm from a different reality where I wasn't killed twelve years ago."

"You should be in a mental hospital!" Jim cried. "You are not Artemus Gordon! You can't be him!"

"God damn it, Jim, I am!" the man yelled jumping up. "I am Artemus Gordon! That was the name I was given the day I was born, and the name I shall die with! What will it take to prove it to you, Jim?"

"You can't prove it!" Jim shouted. "I don't know what trick you're trying to pull with me but it won't work."

"Trick? Trick?" the man roared. "You think this is some kind of trick? Some kind of hoax? Do you have any idea how much I want it to be that way? Do you know how much I want someone, _anyone_, to jump out right now and say "ha! I fooled you!"? But no, this is no trick, no hoax; this is _real_. Even Dr. Loveless couldn't go this long before revealing himself, his ego would never let him! Besides, why me and not you? And we haven't seen hide or hair of Count Manzeppi in almost two years now. And I doubt any other enemy we've, I've, made over the years would go through something this elaborate! The one that do come to mind are dead!"

"Dr. Loveless?" Jim asked. "Count Manzeppi? What kind of names are those?"

The man ignored him and continued with his rant. "Don't you think I want this all to be some bad dream, Jim? That I'm safe in my bed on the _Wanderer_, and I'll wake up soon? But no, this is not a dream, this is _real_! If this was a dream, I would have woken up by now! And I've tried to wake up; I've tried so many times! If this was a dream…" The man faced the stone wall of his cell, and punched it multiple times out of frustration until blood appeared on his knuckles. "… I wouldn't feel this! I wouldn't feel pain!

"Somehow, this is all real! Somehow, I'm supposed to be dead, but I'm not! I've been alive the last twelve years in another place! And I have no clue in Hell as to how I came to this twisted world. Damn it, Jim, I'm not making this shit up, but does anyone believe me? No! I'm not insane, I don't need to be in a mental hospital; I need to get back home! I need to get back to the place I belong; to the you that I remember, that I know; to the _Wanderer _that I actually live on; to the world where I'm not _dead_!"

Artie fell to his knees, clutching his bleeding hand as tears began to form and fall down his face. He had never felt so helpless and lost before; especially when he had Jim West by his side. But this wasn't his Jim West. No one believed what he said, everyone thought he was crazy and delusional, but he wasn't. Artie just let the tears fall, and the pain radiate from his hand. What would happen to him now? He had no place in this world, no purpose here. Everything he knew and loved was gone; even though most of it still existed in one form or another.

And why couldn't he remember anything? What was he doing before he showed up here? Was he even Aremus Gordon? Why was he asking that? Artie groaned, and hung his head. He was lost. He had lost.

Jim was unsure as to what to do, so he did nothing; and the two waited in silence for the other to speak first.

* * *

After what felt like forever, Jim looked up at the man in the other cell. His hand was still bleeding a little, and needed to be bandaged; but what bothered Jim the most were the silent sobs that, every once in a while, shook the man. He was hurting inside; he was hurting bad.

Jim took a deep breath, and broke the silence. "George?"

The man didn't respond; so Jim tried again.

"Look, George, Artemus, whatever you're name is;" Jim said. "I'm… sorry, okay? I just… I don't know… it's just that you've… Artie's been dead for twelve years and…" Jim sighed. Why was this so hard? Maybe because it was so confusing.

"I understand Jim;" the man muttered. "I would feel the same way if I was in your shoes. Actually, it's happened to me before… sort of. Not quite like this though." He looked up. "You can call me George if it's easier for you."

Jim nodded. He was still having a hard time wrapping his head around the idea this man was his old friend Artie. Something inside him told him that the man was Artie, but he wasn't ready to believe it quite yet.

"Yesterday, you told me you wanted to help me;" Jim said. "You said you wanted to help me because I seemed like the kind of person who needed help; even if you didn't know what that help is. Well, you've helped me, and now I want to repay you. You're the one who needs the help now; and I'm willing to give that help… whatever it may be."

The man's eyes began to shine with new tears, which he wiped away. "Thanks Jim. I suppose we should get out of here, huh?"

"That would be a good idea;" Jim said. "Last two times I was in jail, I bribed a guard, and knocked several out before stealing a horse." (Jim smiled at the memory. The horse he had stolen that last time was Blackjack) "However, I don't think that will work this time around."

The man chuckled and shook his head. "Jim, where I come from, you are known for your miraculous escapes that rival even the greatest magician." He stood up. "Now watch. Nothing up this sleeve… nothing up this one…" He demonstrated, and smiled. "That's because I never put it in my sleeves, too easy to find." The man flipped up the lapel of his jacket. "So I put it here instead!" He pulled out a lock pick. He was surprised Jeremy hadn't found it, but grateful at the same time.

Jim grinned. "Artemus, you never cease to amaze;" he said.

Artie paused. "You called me Artemus!"

"That's your name, isn't it?" Jim shrugged.

"Sure is;" Artie said. "Now then, let's get out of here."

"That would be a good idea, Mr. Gordon."

Jim and Artie turned to the door where the young lady Artie had seen before stood in the doorway. Artie whipped the lock-pick into his pocket.

"It's you!" Artie gasped.

She nodded. "Yes… and you shouldn't be here, Artemus Gordon."

Artie blinked. "You know my name!"

"Of course I do;" the young woman replied. "It is my job to know such things. It is also my job to fix such things."

"Fix what? I like my name;" Artie said.

"Not your name!" she snapped. "This fine mess you've gotten yourself into. You shouldn't be here!"

"You can say that again;" Artie muttered.

"Look, Miss… uh, what is your name?" Jim asked.

"Kassandra;" the young woman replied.

"Look, Miss Kassandra;" Jim said. "Does this mean you'll help us?"

"It means that I can help Mr. Gordon;" Kassandra replied. "However, the offer extends to you as well, Mr. West."

"What's the catch?" Jim asked.

"Catch?"

"Yeah, what do I have to do in return?"

"Nothing. Should you accept, I shall help you too."

Artie looked at Jim. "Well of course I'm coming! I hate these kinds of places!"

"Kassandra, what is going on?" Artie asked.

"I cannot tell you here;" Kassandra replied. "It isn't safe and it would take too long. Tell me, Mr. Gordon, can you get out of here?"

Artie quietly pulled out the lock-pick. Kassandra nodded.

"Good. Meet me tonight. If you go to the corner where you saw me earlier, I will hang a blue scarf outside my front door. Can you manage that?"

Artie nodded. "Yes, I think so."

"Well, you boys must be hungry!" Kassandra said loudly as the deputy appeared in the doorway. "I brought you something. I always do this for the new arrivals, enjoy! Oh, now here, let me look at that hand of yours…"

"Thank you kindly, miss;" Jim said, taking the plate he was handed. She nodded, and turned to Artie, who held out his bloodied hand.

"Thank you very much;" Artie said. He winced as she washed the cut, and wrapped it in a clean bandage.

"That should hold you together. I'll see you two again in the morning!" she sang.

"Honestly, Miss Kassandra, I don't understand why you always insist on doing this;" the deputy said.

"You don't need to understand, Robert;" Kassandra replied. "My ways are my own." She turned her head forward, and strode out of the door.

* * *

The rest of the evening was uneventful for the boys, and once they were sure that the guard and most of town were asleep, Jim and Artie broke out of jail. It had taken Artie a few tries with the lock-pick, but he had managed to open the doors before Jim wrestled the pick from him for taking so long.

Once outside, the two made their way through the alleyways and shadows, avoiding the few people who happened to still be awake.

"The stables are that way!" Jim whispered, pointing down a side street. "We should be able to find some supplies. We could make a… what are you doing?"

Artie looked back. "I have to find Kassandra. She's the only one who can really tell me what is going on, and maybe get me back to where I belong."

"You have to… Artemus, are you crazy? Someone will see you! How can you trust her?" Jim hissed.

"Jim, I have no choice;" Artie replied. "She's the only one who can help. You don't have to come…"

"I'm coming."

The two quickly and quietly made their way from building to building, shadow to shadow. Artie shook the many flashbacks of previous instances like this from his head. He had to focus! With any luck, he would be back in his proper place soon.

Finally, Artie reached the corner where he had seen Kassandra. "Well, now what?" Jim asked as he came up next to his friend.

Artie looked around, and held a hand up as Jim opened his mouth to say this was a stupid idea, and that they should go and find a couple of horses and get out of town before anyone realized they were gone.

"Look."

Jim squinted at what Artie was pointing at. It was a light blue scarf hanging out of a window.

"Let's go;" Artie whispered.

Before Jim could give any kind of protest, Artie darted towards the scarf. It was tied outside a door with a light coming out from under it. Artie cautiously knocked on the door; causing Jim to freeze in his tracks, before diving behind a set of boxes.

After a few seconds, Artie debated on joining Jim. But before he could dive behind the boxes with Jim, the door was opened by Kassandra.

"I've been waiting for you to come, Mr. Gordon;" the young woman said. "I was beginning to think that you were still in jail!"

Artie shrugged. "I said I would come, and I'm a man of my word."

She nodded. "Yes. Please, come inside; tell Mr. West over there he may come in as well. I will try and answer your questions to the best of my abilities."

Artie waved Jim over, and the two quickly entered the room.

"It will not be safe here for long;" Kassandra said as she closed the door behind them. "They will find you two are gone soon enough. We will have to leave before they do that."

"That's what I said earlier;" Jim mumbled.

"But first I have to gather a few things;" she continued. "Then we can get underway."

The boys watched as she rushed about the room and in and out of other rooms, throwing various objects into two bags on the table.

"Help yourselves to the food there, boys!" she called. Jim and Artie looked at the plate with leftovers from supper, and nibbled at a few bits.

"What about those answers you promised?" Artie asked.

Kassandra stopped collecting odds and ends. "It is not safe to discus those answers here, Mr. Gordon. Nor can I help you get back to where you belong as long as we stay here. We must leave; and soon, the way back won't be there for much longer."

"Miss Kassandra, where are we going exactly?" Artie asked.

"Away from here;" Kassandra replied. "And you don't need to add the 'Miss' in front of my name."

"That's not an answer!" Jim said.

"It's the answer you are getting;" Kassandra snapped.

"You're not very good with answers are you?" Artie asked.

"Oh I am;" Kassandra said. She turned to pull a few items from a cabinet. "But only when it is the right place and time to give them. And right now is neither the time nor the place. There, would you boys mind taking these?"

Jim and Artie each took a bag and followed Kassandra out of the house and down the street. A small wagon hitched to a horse was waiting for them.

"All aboard;" Kassandra whispered. "You two in the back, and stay low until we're out of town."

"Right;" Jim and Artie said. They tossed the bags into the wagon, and climbed into the back. Kassandra covered them with a canvas tarp. A few seconds later, the wagon started on its journey.


	7. Chapter 7

Artie had realized he had fallen asleep until he was jolted awake as the wagon went over a large bump in the road. He pulled the canvas back a little and peaked out. The sky was turning a grayish-pink with the approaching dawn. Next to him, Jim groaned.

"Ugh, I've had better beds in jail!" he said. "Where are we?"

"Farther than we were when you two fell asleep;" Kassandra replied. "And closer to our destination."

"Do you ever give straight answers?" Jim asked, slightly annoyed. "It's too early for riddles!"

"Yes, but only when needed;" Kassandra said. "And right now, they are not needed."

"I beg to differ;" Jim mumbled. He rolled over, pulling most of the canvas cover with him.

Artie sat up and stretched his sore body. Sleeping in the back of a wagon was not helping his back.

"There's some fruit in the bag there if you're hungry;" Kassandra said, pointing to a bag. "Could you get me an apple?"

"Sure." Artie reached in, and pulled out an apple and handed it to her. Suddenly, before Artie could stop him, Jim had thrown the canvas off of him and had his arm around Kassandra's neck.

"Where are we going?" he growled. "Tell me now."

"Good Lord, Jim, let her go!" Artie cried. He pulled at Jim's arm, but Jim just shoved him off.

Jim loosened his grip on her so she could speak. "We are going back to where all this began. We are going to the Door;" she said

"The Door?" Jim said.

"Yes, the one that brought Mr. Gordon here;" Kassandra replied. "Please, that is all I can tell you right now, anything else would be too hard for you to understand."

"Try me;" Jim said.

Artie's eyes went wide as Kassandra began to explain the "Door", how it worked, why Artie shouldn't be here… until Jim cut her off.

"Never mind. You lost me within the first two sentences;" he said as he let her go. "Just keep going."

"Can I have my apple?" Kassandra asked.

Artie failed to stifle a giggle as Jim handed the apple over.

* * *

Jeremy Pike couldn't sleep. He had been up the entire night, and had given up when the sky started to grow lighter with the approaching dawn.

'_All of this… it's all so surreal;_' he thought. The town outside his window was still mostly asleep. '_Friends coming back from the dead, but really another reality… friends who I have to hunt down and arrest for something. Why did they put me on this assignment! I can't do this, James and Artemus were my friends. Heck, I even helped James once years ago!_'

It had been about ten years earlier when an injured James West appeared on Jeremy's doorstep one night. Jim was soaked through from the rain, as well as blood from a single gunshot wound near his right shoulder.

Jim barely had time to whisper "Help;" when he suddenly collapsed onto Jeremy. A little scared and unsure as to what to do, Jeremy dragged the injured man into a guest room in the back, managed to get him into some dry clothes, and dressed the wound. The bullet had gone clean through, and hadn't damaged anything, but Jim had lost a lot of blood. Jeremy spent the night staying by his old friend's bedside, worrying.

Needless to say, Jim made it through the night; and despite a wound that should have kept him in be for a few days, Jim was up and about the next morning until his weakness from the blood loss took its toll. He stayed with Jeremy for another day, before disappearing into the night.

'_I had just joined the Secret Service at that point;_' Jeremy said to himself as he came out of his memory. '_Yet I helped Jim, I didn't turn him in. Maybe it was because I agreed with his quest. I saw Artemus Gordon killed, I saw him die. Whoever did that _deserves _to be killed!_'

"Maybe I still feel that way;" Jeremy mumbled.

"JEREMY!"

Jeremy jumped into the air as someone screamed his name and started banging on his door.

"Jeremy! Jeremy open up!" they yelled. "Or I'll open up for you!"

"Damn it Henry!" Jeremy said. He rushed over to the door and opened it before his younger partner could take it down.

"You're awake!" Henry said surprised.

"Yes, as are you Mr. I-never-wake-up-until-two-hours-after-sunrise;" Jeremy snapped. "Are you _trying_ to wake the rest of the hotel up?"

"Kind of;" Henry replied. "But Jeremy, we got trouble. _HUGE_ trouble."

"Like what?"

"Like West and Gordon are gone. They escaped sometime last night… Jeremy?"

Jeremy stared off into space. Part of him was relieved that James and Artemus had escaped. The other part was about to blow in anger.

"They're WHAT?"

Henry flinched. "The guard dosed off last night and they got out! We only found out a few minutes ago; they woke me up first. Don't hurt me!" he squeaked at the end.

"I'm not going to hurt you!" Jeremy cried. "Why would I do that? Do they have coffee downstairs?"

"Uh, yeah, why?" Henry asked.

"Because we're going to need it;" Jeremy growled. "C'mon." He grabbed the kid's arm, and dragged him down the hall.

Yep, today was starting out just great.

* * *

"Are we there yet?"

"We're five hundred feet closer since the last time you asked, Artemus."

"Oh, okay… Are we there yet?"

Jim cringed, and fought the urge to punch the man in the face. The sun had just cleared the horizon, and while there were no signs that they were being followed, he knew their escape had probably been discovered at this point.

Suddenly, the wagon shuttered, and pitched to one side as the right front wheel broke. Kassandra was thrown from the seat, Artie and Jim became tangled with each other. The horses became unhitched, and one managed to get free of its harness and ran off.

"Get your foot out of my face!" Jim said.

"How about getting your rear end out of mine!" Artie replied. It took them a few moments, but they finally got free of the tangled mess of limbs.

"Oh dear;" Kassandra sighed, picking herself up and inspecting the broken wheel.

"Oh dear? Oh dear?" Jim cried. "Now what do we do? We've only got one horse! And the other is going in the wrong direction!"

"We walk, Mr. West;" Kassandra replied. "We walk. Let's go."

Jim stood still with his mouth hanging open. Artie handed him a bag. "Here, you're going to catch flies with your mouth open like that."


	8. Chapter 8

It had taken a few tries, but Jeremy and Henry managed to find someone who was awake early enough to have seen a small wagon driven by a young lady leave well before sunrise. The deputy Robert remembered the boys had a visitor the evening before, a young woman known only as Kassandra. As luck would have it, Kassandra was not home. And the wagon and two horses were missing from the stables of the boarding house where she worked.

"How does Kassandra fit into all of this?" Henry asked.

"I have no idea, Hens;" Jeremy said. They were following the tacks out of town, hoping to find the fugitives. Though with a few hours head start, it would mean a good amount of hard riding to catch up.

"Maybe they took her as a hostage;" Henry offered.

"You forget, James West was my friend years ago;" Jeremy said. "And while he's not the same, James West was and will always be a lady's man. He wouldn't do something like that; he would just take the wagon, not the girl as well."

"And Artemus Gordon?"

"Same thing. The two of them were some of the most honorable men I have ever known."

Henry snorted. "James West, honorable?"

Jeremy glared at him. "James West was one of the most decorated soldiers to come out of that war. In fact, he was to receive two more medals once we arrived in Washington had Artemus not been killed and all this happened! If that night had not happened, James West would be a legend in this country for a very _different_ reason."

"You're _defending _him!" Henry gasped.

Jeremy looked away. "Maybe, Henry; it's just that… I…"

"Jeremy;" Henry said quietly. "You don't have to do this. You can go back to Greensburg; I'll lead these guys after West and Gordon."

"No, Henry, I'm coming;" Jeremy said. "I have to. I have to… make up for a mistake."

"A mistake? Jeremy!" Henry urged his horse after Jeremy. Behind them, the sheriff and a group of volunteers followed.

* * *

Jim had decided that one horse was one horse, and had managed to talk Kassandra into riding Whiskey while he and Artie walked along side. Out of boredom, they had tried to come up with an name for the horse earlier, since Kassandra was unsure of its real name. From the options of Jasper, Whiskey, and Splash, Whiskey had won, and Jim won a dollar for coming up with it.

"So how long is it going to take now?" Artie asked.

"Not much longer;" Kassandra replied. "We are almost there."

"Well, since we have the time, do you think you could explain what's going on?" Jim asked.

"I already did."

"Honey, what you "explained" to us wasn't English."

"I told you, it is too hard for you to understand."

Suddenly, Artie stopped and wavered on his feet. "Whoa…"

"Artemus, what's wrong?" Jim asked as the other two stopped.

"I… I don't know;" Artie replied. "I just… all of a sudden, I'm really tired."

"Oh dear;" Kassandra sighed.

"Last time you said that, it was an understatement;" Jim said, helping Artie stay on his feet. "What's wrong with him? Do you know?"

"Yes. I'm surprised it didn't begin sooner;" Kassandra said. "He is Merging."

"Merging?" Jim and Artie asked.

"Please say there is an easy to understand explanation for this;" Jim begged.

"There is, Mr. West;" Kassandra replied as she climbed off Whiskey. "You see, there can only be one of each of us at a time in a universe. If another comes in, the universe tries to correct itself by Merging the two people into one. Normally, the new comer becomes the original."

"But there is no other Artemus Gordon here!" Jim said. "At least, not anymore."

"Not anymore is correct;" Kassandra said. "But, he does exist; he is just not _alive_."

Artie gulped. "You mean I'm… becoming the Artemus Gordon who was killed twelve years ago?"

Kassandra nodded sadly. "Yes. That is why we must get you back quickly, before it is too late and we cannot get you back to your proper place."

"Can you walk?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine;" Artie replied, and pushed himself up off of Jim.

"It would be best for you to ride, Mr. Gordon;" Kassandra said. "Using too much energy will speed up the Merging process."

"If you say so…" Artie pulled himself up onto Whiskey. "Now then, if you two don't mind, I would like to get home."

* * *

Jeremy slowed down as a single horse came trotting down the path towards him. The horse had the remains of a harness on him.

"Looks like they lost a horse;" the sheriff said as he came up next to Jeremy. "Cory! Bring this creature back to town!"

"Aye sheriff!" the young man named Cory replied. Making a makeshift bridle, Cory headed back in the direction they had come with the horse plodding behind him. He mumbled something under his breath, but not loud enough for anyone to hear.

"They can't be too far ahead;" Henry said.

"No, I guess not;" Jeremy mumbled.

"Come on boys!" the sheriff called. "We've almost got'em!"

* * *

Short chapter, I know, but the end is near! Thank you to my little sister for coming up with the horse's name (not that she'll ever read this).


	9. Chapter 9

Last chapter before the epilogue!**  
**

* * *

An hour and a half later, the search party came across an abandoned wagon with a broken front wheel by the side of the road.

"Must have hit that big old pot hole back there pretty hard;" one of the men said as he inspected the damage. "The entire wheel needs to be replaced!"

"Hey lookie this!" another said. He held up a hair clip with a crystal flower.

"That belongs to Miss Kassandra!" Robert the deputy cried. "She's always wearing it. They've got her!"

"All that clip means is that she's with them, Scanlon;" Jeremy said. "It does not mean she's a hostage."

"But it could;" Robert countered, and flinched as Jeremy shot him a cold glare.

"We can worry about that later;" the sheriff said. "Which way did they go?"

"That way sir!" a man said, pointing down the right fork in the road. "Two of them are on foot; the other is on a horse! I'd say the tracks are no more than an hour or two old!"

"Then we can catch up to them, c'mon!"

Henry looked over at his partner, who had been strangely quiet until a few moments ago. "Jeremy, are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm worried, Henry;" Jeremy replied.

"Worried about what?" Henry asked.

Jeremy looked at him, his eyes full of sadness. "Everything. Maybe you're right, Henry, maybe I can't… no, I have to, orders are orders."

Henry shook his head, and followed his partner. Something wasn't right.

* * *

Kassandra sat down on a moss covered rock. "I'm sorry, boys, but I need to catch my breath."

"Maybe you should ride Whiskey for a bit;" Artie offered.

"No, no, you should stay where you are, Mr. Gordon;" Kassandra replied. "We don't need you disappearing on my account."

"Well, I could use a break as well;" Jim said. "And I think I hear running water up ahead…"

The three paused and listened. Sure enough, the soft sound of a running stream could be heard through the trees.

"I say we have lunch over there, how about you?" Jim added.

"Fine by me."

"I'm hungry anyway."

The three made their way over to the small stream. Artie dismounted, and allowed Whiskey to get a good drink while he tied him to a nearby sapling. Jim reached into one of the bags, and pulled out some bread.

"We'll have to make this a quick stop;" he said. "They're probably following us by now. Our escape and your absence, Kassandra, couldn't have gone on unnoticed this long."

"Jeremy and Henry?" Artie asked.

"And Sheriff Zwack;" Kassandra added. "And whoever else volunteered to hunt you two down."

"Zwack? He wouldn't happen to be related to an Alton Zwack?" Artie asked.

"The sheriff is Alton Zwack;" Kassandra replied. "You know him?"

"Back where I'm from, yes I do;" Artie said. "I knew he seemed familiar! Once I'm home, I'm going to visit Alton and give him a piece of my mind."

"On what?" Jim asked. "The fact that an alternate version of himself arrested you and threw you in jail?"

"No, that his jail security sucks!" Artie answered. "And he needs a new guard."

Jim smiled, and tossed Artie an apple. "You do that, pal."

Artie caught the fruit and took a bite all in one motion. "So, Kassandra, how much farther do we have to go?"

"Not much, actually;" Kassandra said. "The Door isn't that far from here, we can make it there in less than an hour I believe."

"Sounds good to me;" Jim said. "By the way, what are you going to do with me once we get Artemus here back to where he belongs?"

"I am going to do nothing with you, Mr. West;" Kassandra said. "You will take care of your self."

"You said you would help me!"

"And I am. However, I will not be the one to help you in the end, you will help yourself escape."

"You will never give me a straight answer will you?" Jim sighed. "Don't answer that."

"No, I already gave my answer to that question." Kassandra smiled.

They ate the rest of their hurried lunch in silence, and were careful not to leave any trace of their presence before setting off again.

None of them noticed the far off sounds of horses running towards them.

* * *

"Hold up!" sheriff Zwack said, putting his hand in the air. The sudden stop caused a slight pileup behind him.

"What's up sheriff?" Henry asked as he and Jeremy made their way to the front.

Zwack pointed. "Look and listen."

They squinted; and in between the trees they could see movement, and hear voices. Three voices: two men and a lady.

"That's them;" Zwack said. "Dismount and spread out."

The search party quickly dismounted their horses and spread out among the trees. Zwack, Robert, Jeremy and Henry cautiously made their way towards the three figures, and the horse. None of them were riding the horse for some reason. The four ducked behind a rock.

"Think you can get'em from here, Rob?" Zwack asked.

"No problem, boss;" Robert replied. He reached into his bag, and pulled out a rifle. "You forget I'm the best shot in these parts. I _never_ miss."

Henry watched as the deputy set up for the shot. He glanced at Jeremy, and frowned. Jeremy was shaking.

"Come on… c'mon…" Robert mumbled. "Got you, West."

"NO!" Jeremy screamed. He tackled Robert; the gun went off.

Jim screamed as his arm was struck by the bullet.

"Jim!" Artie cried. Whiskey reared up, causing Kassandra to let go of the reins. The horse ran off into the trees, causing a few men to scatter from their hiding places.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Robert shouted at Jeremy.

Jeremy ignored him, jumping up from behind the rock. "RUN! James, Artemus, run!"

"Get them!" Zwack added, and the search party members emerged from their hiding places, guns drawn.

* * *

"RUN!" Artie screamed.

Artie grabbed Jim's good arm and pulled him up. The three took off at a dead sprint, dodging bullets and trees.

"No, wait, stop!" Jeremy cried, but no one listened to him. He watched in horror as the men chased after the three, waiting for one of his old friends to be gunned down or captured. "Run guys;" he added quietly.

"Jeremy…" Henry said.

Jeremy just shook his head.

"There's a clearing up ahead!" Artie yelled. "We've got to go around!"

"No!" Kassandra cried. "There is no time! That clearing is where you must go! That is where the door is!"

Artie nodded, and did a double take as Jim sprinted past him as they entered the clearing. He then did another one. '_How the heck did we get here?_'

They were running through the same small meadow that he had woken up in, _on the other side of the hills_, a day's ride away; not six hours! Artie didn't bother stopping to ask how they ended up back where he started, there wasn't time.

One-third of the way across, the search party burst out of the woods, and promptly started shooting at the three of them again. A few had gone back for their horses, and were now mounted.

"Crap, crap, crap, crapcrapcrap!" Jim yelled.

Artie and Kassandra were having a hard time keeping up with Jim, even though he was badly injured. Bullets whizzed past them, causing adrenaline to race through Artie's body and keep him going, pulling Kassandra along, despite the fact he was getting tired; very tired. The Merging process was happening… he was turning into the other Artemus Gordon. He was dying.

Suddenly, Kassandra cried out and fell, almost taking Artie with her.

Artie slowed down and started to turn around. "Kassandra!"

"No, Artemus, you mustn't!" she cried. "Go! You must return to your proper place! GO!"

Seeing that he had no time to go back for her, Artie turned and ran after Jim. He looked back, and almost stopped. She was gone! Kassandra was gone!

"_Jim. Jim!_"

"What?" he panted, but didn't stop. The men were gaining on him. He wasn't going to make it… he would never out run them, he was too slow.

"Whoa!" Artie was thrown off his feet by the suddenly rolling ground. He gasped as he hit the ground, hard.

"Earthquake!" someone shouted.

'_In this part of the country?_' Artie said to himself. He rolled over and struggled to his feet. Men were thrown from their horses as the animals panicked. Staying low, Artie hurried over to Jim.

"C'mon!" he said, and pulled Jim up for the second time in five minutes.

The two struggled to stay standing as the earth moved and rolled beneath them.

"_Jim. C'mon Jim!_"

"Who keeps saying your name?" Artie asked.

"Nobody's saying my name;" Jim replied.

"_Jim!_"

"Yes they are;" Artie said. "I just heard them say 'Jim'."

"I didn't hear any…"

Suddenly, Artie pulled Jim to a stop as a massive fissure opened up in front of them.

"Oh shit!" Jim cried, almost falling in. "That's deep!"

"It's too far to jump across;" Artie said. '_Even if the earth wasn't rolling beneath us we'd never make it!_'

Jim looked back. Most of their pursuers were preoccupied with their horses, though a few were slowly making their way towards the two across the rolling ground.

"James, my boy, I do believe that…" Artie began, but was cut off.

"Artie, move!"

Artie looked at Jim in surprise. "You called me Artie!"

"I also said MOVE!" Jim cried.

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion for Artie. Jim tackled him, causing them both to lose their balance and fall into the newly formed fissure. Darkness swirled around him as he looked frantically around for Jim, only to see him swallowed up by the darkness.

"_Jim…_"

"Noooo!"

"_Jim!_"

And his world faded to black.


	10. Epilogue

Blackness rushed past him as he fell farther and farther. At least, he thought he was falling; until he realized _he_ wasn't moving; the darkness was. He was lying flat on his back, staring up at a twilight sky. The rest of the world came into focus as he sat up. He found that it wasn't a twilight sky at all; it was the ceiling of his room on the _Wanderer_.

"Ugh, what happened?" he wondered aloud, rubbing his sore head.

"You were dreaming;" someone replied.

He turned his head to the right. "Good morning, Artie."

"Good _afternoon_, Jim;" Artie corrected with a small smile. The worried look on his face melted away. "It took you long enough to wake up; it's almost one o'clock!"

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" Jim asked. '_Why didn't I wake up sooner? I never sleep later than nine!_'

"I couldn't;" Artie replied. "You wouldn't wake up. You were tossing about quite a bit, and calling for yourself. You even chucked your pillow at me!"

Jim looked around. One of his pillows was thrown across the room, and his covers were twisted around his legs. "I was calling for myself?"

"Either that, or someone else named Jim;" Artie said. "Must have been some dream, though."

"More like a nightmare;" Jim said. "It was so strange! I was you, Artie, only I, you, was in a place were I, you, was dead and came back to life, or came from another world. And I, the other Jim, was a wanted man; and Jeremy was there, and this kid Henry, and there was this girl…"

"Sounds interesting;" Artie said. "How about you get dressed and tell me about it over brunch, hm? Who knows, maybe your dream will jog my memory, and I'll remember what happened to me the last few days while I was missing."

END

* * *

Thank you to everyone who put up with me and this thing; and huge thanks to those who kept me going (i.e. all of you) and helped out (_challengerspet_ for Beta Reading half way through. Thanks again!). If you thought waiting for me to update this was annoying, try writing it! I went through so many versions of this story(I had Loveless, Henry as the villain, Vautrain showed up at one point, or at least his niece did, Jim had fallen through the Door with Artie but had come out at the twelve years ago mark, and more) before having an epiphany in the middle of the night and settled on this. Hope you enjoyed, reviews appreciated, and all that jazz.


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